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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24671971">The feeling of nothing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonbunnie/pseuds/cinnamonbunnie'>cinnamonbunnie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Arcana (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Asra (The Arcana) Route Spoilers, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Reader-Insert, but its not explicit, kinda lol, reference to sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:00:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,176</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24671971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonbunnie/pseuds/cinnamonbunnie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>People experience grief differently, in all sorts of ways. For Asra, ignoring it until it he has a mental breakdown is the most convenient option.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Reader, Asra/Julian Devorak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The feeling of nothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>started as me just venting thru asra and it got away from me a lil bit. it's the first fic i've written in years so it's kinda short but i might try again sometime if i'm up to it. hope u enjoy! feel free to follow my arcana sideblog @foolofarcana on tumblr :0!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How could he describe it?</p>
<p>The utter emptiness he felt. It was like nothing he’s ever experienced. He didn’t cry anymore, he didn’t think he could even if he wanted to; there were no more tears left. After the very first day, digging through your remains until his fingers bled, screaming and crying until his voice went hoarse, he couldn’t find it in him to feel much of anything. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been through loss before; he’d lost friends to the plague before he’d even left Vesuvia, not to mention the loss of his parents years ago. But something about this felt different. Almost like he was losing half of himself. You were his home, his piece of sunshine amongst the clouds, one of the few people he felt comfortable being open with - hell, you knew more about him than he did. You were his heart. How could he be expected to feel anything anymore after losing his heart? </p>
<p>So he didn’t. All he knew anymore was the sickeningly warm embrace of the numbness. How easy it had been for him to block out all emotion, both good and bad - it was almost comforting if it wasn’t starting to wear so heavily on him. He could feel emotion seeping in at the fringe of his thoughts, little leaks from the dam he built around his feelings. It was the smell of pumpkin bread, a palace guard with a similar haircut, the sight of your favorite flower; Small things that reminded him of you would cause cracks in the dam, setting off a panic in him that wouldn’t be resolved until he could find something else to distract himself from the unwelcome twinge of grief. That ‘something else’ could vary from a new patient to examine, to the closest book he could grab, and eventually to a certain doctor. </p>
<p>It started off as just friendly work conversation, nothing more than pleasantries and small talk. But small talk slowly turned into playful banter, which turned into flirting, which led to where he was now - laying in Ilya’s guest bed next to the sleeping doctor himself. He could almost hear your voice chastising him, telling him off for playing around with someone he obviously felt nothing for. He cringed at the thought and distracted himself with finding the clothes he had thrown off hours before. Pants there, scarf over there, boots peeking out under the bed. He pulled up each boot one by one, falling over and landing on the bed a little too hard, causing Ilya to stir. Asra sucked in an involuntary breath and waited.</p>
<p>One.</p>
<p>Two.</p>
<p>Three seconds.</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>Asra sighed a breath of relief. Ilya was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. Keeping up the playful teasing could be tiring, not to mention the nagging guilt of indulging Ilya in feelings he himself could not return. However charming and attractive the doctor was, Asra didn’t have the capacity to care about anyone’s feelings at the moment. In a sick way, he almost enjoyed the power he felt over the situation - it was surprisingly easy to control this man whose bed he shared. He didn’t usually like to tease like this but the need for a distraction was stronger than his self control, and dammit didn’t he deserve to be a little selfish for now? Like how when he was selfish when he left [Name] behind?</p>
<p>No no no, not like that, shut up shut up shut up. He went back to looking for his shirt, which he eventually found thrown across the room, and left with a nearly silent click of the door. Normally he’d simply return to his own guest room a few doors down, where Faust is surely waiting for him, but tonight he found himself walking past it, down the hall, outside. He didn’t know where he was going but stopping didn’t feel like an option. He let his legs carry him, spacing out as much as he could walking through the town he’d grown to dread the sight of, if only for the memories that came with it.</p>
<p>He stopped abruptly and looked at his destination he had apparently reached. </p>
<p>Ah. </p>
<p>The shop. </p>
<p>He hadn’t been here since, well. Since he had been summoned to help find a cure to the plague. </p>
<p>Asra hesitated. Stepping into the shop would mean destroying that dam he had built, that was for certain. Too many memories resided in the old building for it to not cause his already weakened mental state to break entirely. However, before he could stop himself, he was on his way in.</p>
<p>The door creaked as it opened for the first time in Asra didn’t even know how long. Dust caked every surface in sight but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with that right now. He walked almost as if possessed, zero thought going to where his legs were bringing him next as he walked up the stairs of this once shared home and into a little bedroom. A decorated wardrobe sat in the corner, the doors open and a few pieces of your clothing laying on the floor. Books were left on every surface with makeshift bookmarks of socks, scarves, and sometimes other smaller books. Half burned candles sat on the windowsill and the small table beside the bed, next to an empty cup of tea. Your presence in every detail of the room overwhelmed him - he’d almost think you were still there waiting just outside the door if it had not been for the shriveled up plants coating the ground in leaves and the thick layer of dust over everything. </p>
<p>He took two steps and collapsed onto the unmade bed, breathing in your still present, if a little stale, scent from the sweater you had left there. The smell made him dizzy, and suddenly the room was filled with swirls of magic that could only belong to one person. He blinked, haphazardly sitting up. And there he saw you - or rather, memories of you - visions of the time you had spent in this room. In one second you’re laying in the armchair, legs kicked up and mouth hanging open in your sleep; the next you’re looking around for a shirt you can’t find and yelling for him to come help; then you’re slow dancing with Faust in your arms, a grin wide on your face. He watched in awe as flashes of you went around the room, taking his breath away. The memories fade more and more into nothing, until they stop entirely. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes and pulling your sweater to his chest. His head hurt from holding back so much, so much more than he had realized was even there. </p>
<p>And he cried. He cried until he couldn’t breathe. Until he finally fell asleep, feeling the closest to you since he had left all that time ago. </p>
<p>And the weight on his heart lifted, if only a little bit. </p>
<p>And, for now, that was enough.</p>
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